


Easy

by quirkysubject



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Anal Sex, Bucky Barnes the magic lube bearer, Established Relationship, Historical References, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Pre-Captain America: The First Avenger, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Semi-Public Sex, The Met, a night at the opera, ca 1941, carmen (opera)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-16
Updated: 2016-10-16
Packaged: 2018-08-22 18:19:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,945
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8295443
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quirkysubject/pseuds/quirkysubject
Summary: “Come on”, Bucky purrs and licks a stripe right up the line where Steve’s pulse is hammering away. “We’ve fifteen minutes to kill.” He pulls Steve even closer, pressing his dick against his lower back and Steve feels how his defenses begin to crumble.“Fifteen minutes of people running all over the place. People who might walk into the wrong door”, he says as he slides one hand up to the back of Bucky’s neck.  “Especially when they hear strange noises from inside one that’s supposed to be e-empty.” That’s Bucky’s sharp teeth against the top of his spine. When Bucky answers, his voice is so deep Steve can feel it rumbling his chest. “Guess you’ll have to be really, really quiet then.” One of Bucky’s hands travels up Steve’s body, over his chest and throat until it covers Steve’s mouth, one finger resting just between his lips. Steve’s breath hitches. It’s the loudest sound he’s made so far.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Kinktober Day 3: Public  
> Merely two weeks behind schedule...

Steve tugs at the curtain separating the small ante-room from the box proper. There are plush seats and a gilded carved bannister - and beyond that rows and rows of bejeweled ladies and men in tails, talking excitedly in hushed voices. He doesn’t dare open the curtain more than an inch - not yet, at least, as the house lights are still up. But even through the small gap he can spy the famous golden stage curtain, glinting with promise. 

The box itself is too exposed to sneak into, visible to the audience above and around it. That’s not by accident. The papers are full of breathless reports about which socialite had been invited to whose box and whether that meant their star was rising or falling. 

“The showgirls flashin’ their legs yet?”

Bucky’s drawl is jarringly loud in the small, darkened room. Steve hushes him and gestures to keep his voice down. They are surrounded by other patrons and the halls are swarming with wait staff and attendants. 

“You realize I still owe Billy three extra shifts for the uniforms, so this better be worth it.”

A pang of guilt shoots through Steve. Bucky has moved heaven and earth to get them both in here: He went dancing with Annie from two houses down the block who worked at the Met as a servant girl (and possessed an unfortunate combination of two left feet and punishingly spiky heels) until she told him of a private box that sometimes remained empty. He picked up unpaid shifts for one of the guys at the docks, who knew a fella who was on the Met’s payroll. And finally he’d somehow (Steve didn’t even want to know how) charmed that guy into diverting two attendant’s uniform from their way back from the laundry into Bucky’s hands. 

All because Steve wouldn’t stop mooning about Risë Stevens and her celebrated performance as Carmen. He’d listened to a recording of her singing the Habanera in Sacker’s music shop and snuck back in there as often as he dared - Mr Sacker didn’t hold with scrawny guys who never bought anything wearing down his records. Her voice was mellow and dark and full of embers, but it was the picture of Risë accompanying the gushing reviews that had him completely smitten: with her wild flowing pony-tail, shoulder-free dress and dark, soulful eyes she looked every bit the fiery spirit that could drive a man to madness. 

Bucky on the other hand has as much interest in opera as in running for congress, but he’d do anything to provoke that glint that appeared in Steve’s eyes whenever he proposed something completely loony. And so he came back home from a late shift two days ago, waiving a linen laundry bag like a trophy, and presented Steve with a fail-proof plan to sneak into the goddamn Dursts private box at the Metropolitan Opera a because some girl he went dancing with promised it was empty every second Tuesday of the month. 

It was absolutely harebrained. 

It worked like a dream. 

Bucky just waltzed into the staff entrance in his ill-fitting uniform like he owned the place, winking at the girls and pretending to be busy at whatever job they were supposed to be performing. Steve found it easy to just trail along in his wake, glad about being overlooked for once. They had slipped into box 29 without a hitch. 

In fact, the whole thing had been so simple, Bucky seems to be getting bored already. Steve can hear his leg twitch with nervous energy as they wait in the dark for the opera to begin. 

Steve turns away from the curtain and grins at Bucky. “From up here, we’ll have just the view down the dame’s dresses.” He keeps his voice at a whisper, hoping Bucky will fall in line. 

Bucky is sprawled on a small couch (that certainly wasn’t designed to be sprawled on) and grins back. “That why all the rich fellas nest up here?”

It isn’t. The really rich fellas mainly sit further back from the stage, right in the middle of the auditorium, where they are be in full view everyone. But doesn’t matter right now. 

In the dark room, Steve allows himself the luxury of reaching out and running his hand through Bucky’s hair in a slow caress.

Bucky gives a soft noise of surprise, but doesn’t flinch away. “Quit mussing up my hair”, he complains while pressing his head back against Steve’s hand.

Steve pets him a few more minutes, enjoying the thick soft strands gliding through his fingers, before he lets go. 

As if he had just been waiting for that moment, Bucky traps his hand between his own and brings it to his mouth, running his lips lightly over the back of Steve’s thumb.

“Bucky…” Steve nervously tries to pull his hand away but Bucky holds fast.

“It’s alright”, he murmurs, kissing the words into Steve’s skin. 

“Jesus, Bucky, stop.” Steve’s breath comes faster already. Bucky’s lightest touch has the power to make his knees weak, but now Bucky’s lips team up with the adrenaline of sneaking into this place and the darkness and the nervous energy of an audience of thousands just a stone’s throw away… Steve shivers as the thought sinks in, the knowledge that not even two yards away, separated by nothing but a curtain and some thin air, some of the richest people in the whole city are waiting for the evening entertainment to begin, unaware of the two intruders inching their way towards indecency with every passing second. 

“Hmmm.” Bucky’s grip loosens, but then he grasps the tip of Steve’s thumb lightly with his teeth. “Sure you want me to” he asks, mumbling a little, the tip of his tongue flicking against Steve fingertip as he speaks. The corner of his mouth is curled into that brazen, irresistible grin that Steve is pretty sure can make his heart trip over itself if he isn’t careful. 

“Dammit, I…” His harsh whisper is interrupted by a drawn out note from the orchestra. Steve snatches his fingers out of Bucky’s mouth, throwing him a dirty look. Bucky just sighs and rolls his eyes. 

Steve leaves his friend on the Sofa and runs over to the curtain. The sound comes from a lady with some sort of woodwind, an oboe or a clarinette, he isn’t sure. Soon after, the other instruments join in, producing a weird jumble of noise. The rest of the audience doesn’t seem to think anything is out of the ordinary.

“I dunno, Stevie”, Bucky comments drily. “Sounds kinda fancy to me.”

“Shut it.” Steve watches in utter fascination as the musicians tune their instruments as if they had all the time in the world. 

Then a small, rotund man appears in the pit and a round of applause comes from the audience. He bows, and then a fraught silence falls. Steve bites his lip. 

“Can’t say I’m impressed.” Steve almost jumps through the curtain when Bucky’s whispers directly into his ear. 

Steve whirls around and presses a hand against Bucky’s mouth, pushing him into the wall and staring at him with all the suppressed rage boiling within him. Bucky doesn’t fight back, although he could easily free himself. He just quirks one eyebrow and waits for Steve’s move. 

Once they get to this point, there are usually only two ways for things to go. Either Steve storms out “for a walk” (ending up in a fight more times than not) or he reaches straight into Bucky’s pants and gets him off with a few rough jerks and whispered curses. 

Steve is only saved by the clash of cymbals and the no-holds-barred overture of the opera springing right into action. 

With one last warning glance at Bucky, he resumes his spot at the curtain. He’s never been up so close to a full orchestra and it’s fascinating to see the synchronized bowing of the violins. Then the music abruptly changes from rousing to suspenseful and the curtain rises to reveal the richly decorated stage. Performers in colourful costumes imitate the bustling life of a traditional Spanish village square: soldiers, workers, washer women all singing alone or in groups.

Two hands come to rest lightly on his hips. 

“Bucky”, he hisses as loudly as he dares.

“Shhh. I wanna see.” Bucky rests his head on top of Steve’s to peer through the curtain as well. 

Steve hates it that Bucky’s able to do that, but it feels nice to have him pressed against his back. And for once he seems content to keep his hands still and let Steve watch in peace. For a while at least.

“Doesn’t sound like Spanish”, Bucky whispers into his hair. 

“That’s because it’s French.”

Bucky doesn’t question his answer further. 

Then the music turns dramatic and She appears, singing that song that Steve has heard so often but never like that. Carmen flirts and struts and teases her way across the stage in her shoulder-less dress, her curls flowing freely down her back. She brazenly invites the adoration of every man and woman on stage and in the audience. 

Bucky gives a very low whistle. “Would you look at that.”

“Poor José doesn’t chance.”

“Huh?”

“That soldier fella.”

Then Carmen gets arrested and placed in the care of - who else - José, who promptly succumbs to her charms. As Carmen sings the sensuous Seguidilla, Bucky’s hands leave their safe space on Steve’s hips and slowly make their way to Steve’s stomach and up his chest. 

His hands are broad and warm and familiar, and Steve allows it, sinking back into his strong arms and letting himself be caressed by touch and music alike. It’s dangerous to encourage Bucky like that, but his legs are already cramping from standing upright the whole time and it feels good to be held. It’s intimate, but there’s no heat, no urgency in Bucky’s touch.

Then Bucky noses that spot behind his ear, because he just can’t behave just that once. Steve jerks his head away. “Stop it.” He will not be arrested for defiling a private box belonging to one of the richest families in New York. They’d probably be taken to the waterside and shot. 

“You like it.”

As if that’s the point. “Just let me watch this in peace. Then we go home and you can do whatever you want with me.”

“Anything?” Bucky’s breath sped up in excitement. “Even…”

“I just said so, didn’t I,” Steve snaps, just to shut him up. He has no clear idea what exactly Bucky is thinking of - there's a long list of things Bucky variously claims are his favourite. But the last thing he needs right now is Bucky simpering all sorts of perverted and illegal acts right into his ear.

Bucky brings his head back up into a safe distance from Steve’s ear, but his hands stay where they are. But when Steve starts to squirm, Bucky just shushes him again. “Your back’s gonna be killing you tomorrow if you keep standing on your tiptoes the whole time.” 

Steve kinda loses track of the story during the second act. There is a bull-fighter with another famous song involved and a group of shady individuals (pirates?) Carmen is associated with, but the important stuff is a long, protracted scene between her and José in which she takes out the castagnets and woos him into staying with her, beguiling him so effectively that he attacks his superior officer to protect her. When he joins her gang of outlaws, he is greeted by a rousing song of freedom. 

And then there is silence. 

The curtain closes, house lights go up and most of the audience rises from their seats. 

Steve frowns in confusion. This is not how the opera is supposed to end, he knows that much. 

“Intermission”, Bucky says and holds up a leaflet he’d pilfered on their way in. Steve barely has time to process that information before Bucky’s mouth is latched to the side of Steve’s neck. Steve pulls the curtain shut completely and pushes at Bucky’s hands, trying to get him to let go. “Dammit, Bucky!”

“Come on”, Bucky purrs and licks a stripe right up the line where Steve’s pulse is hammering away. “We’ve fifteen minutes to kill.” He pulls Steve even closer, pressing his dick against his lower back and Steve feels how his defenses start to crumble.

“Fifteen minutes of people running all over the place. People who might walk into the wrong door”, he says as he slides one hand up to the back of Bucky’s neck. “Especially when they hear strange noises from inside a room that’s supposed to be e-empty.” Oh. That’s Bucky’s sharp teeth against the top of his spine. 

When Bucky answers, his voice is so deep Steve can feel it rumbling his chest. “Guess you’ll have to be really, _really_ quiet then.” One of Bucky’s hands travels up Steve’s body, over his chest and throat until it covers Steve’s mouth, one finger resting just between his lips. Steve’s breath hitches. It’s the loudest sound he’s made so far. 

“Shhhh.” Bucky’s other hand reaches straight into Steve’s pants, finding him half-hard and wanting. “Is that for me or the dolly down there you’ve been ogling all night.”

 _You_ , Steve thinks, _of course it’s you, it’s always you_ , but Bucky doesn’t make him say it, so he just opens his mouth as best he can and nips at Bucky’s finger. 

Bucky’s mouth travels down the other side of Steve’s neck and Steve tilts his head willingly, giving Bucky all the space he desires. “Always playing so hard to get. Hate to tell you, Steve, but you’re fooling no one. You’re easy.”

Steve closes his eyes and takes ragged, deep breaths through his nose. Bucky lifts his mouth off him, gives him some space. “You okay?”

 _God, Bucky, not now, don’t stop now._ Steve shakes his head, then realizes it sends the wrong message and draws Bucky’s head back down again instead. “Fine”, he mumbles. “Go on.”

Bucky hums. “So easy.” 

He turns Steve and steers him backward, until his shoulders hit the separating wall with an audible thump. The paper-thin wall trembles from the impact. They both cringe and freeze for ten long heartbeats, but nothing stirs on the other side. 

“Careful now”, Bucky admonishes as though this wasn’t clearly his fault. Steve bites into the skin right over the hollow of his throat. Bucky makes a low, rumbling, growling noise that should sound completely ridiculous, but all it does is pump every remaining drop of blood in Steve’s body into his cock. He lets his head lie back against the wall and bites his lip to keep the groan inside. 

“God, you…” Steve blinks his eyes open to find Bucky staring at his face. “You have no idea what you look like right now, do you?”

Small, scrawny guy, held up only by the wall and Bucky’s hips pinning him to it. Only able to meet Bucky’s eyes because his head is tilted back. But Bucky, he sees it all, has always seen it, and for some unfathomable, wonderful, insane reason has decided he likes it. Steve drops his eyes to Bucky’s lips. He could spend hours drawing that sinful bow (has actually done so, not that he’ll ever tell Bucky that or he’d never stop preening) that changes it shape so quickly. He gets little time to appreciate it though, as Bucky groans and bring his lips to Steve’s in a searing kiss. 

They’ve done all this before, kissing, making out and much more than that, dozens of times. But the thrill of sneaking in like a couple of dodgers, the blood stirring rhythms of the opera and the jabs of nerves that someone might come in and find them like this, it fills every sensation with that extra dose of excitement that makes Steve’s knees weak. He’s aware of every breath he takes, of the slight stubble on Bucky’s chin scraping over his own, of his hair rubbing against the wall. It’s like the air in the small dark room is crackling with electricity, growing hotter by the second. Every time he hears steps passing by in the hall outside, a fresh wave of excitement races through him, sending a hot-cold-hot chill down his spine that makes him dizzy, reckless and dig his fingers tighter into Bucky’s hair.

Bucky’s hands slide down Steve’s body. He pushes Steve’s hands behind his back until he can hold them with one of his own in a tight grip. _Oh sweet mother of god, have mercy._

“Close your eyes.” 

Steve obeys without hesitation. When Bucky is like this, only good things come from obeying him. 

Just a second later, his faith is rewarded as Bucky slides down his body and presses his face right between Steve’s legs, where he is achingly hard in his pants. 

“Christ, Bucky.” Steve can’t contain the whisper at the sweet, sweet pressure.

“Shut. Up.” Every word breathes a pulse of hot damp air against his overheated dick. 

Steve bites his lips to keep from babbling. Bucky on his knees for him, mouthing his dick through the pilfered uniform, holding onto both of his hands so tightly Steve’s not sure he could wriggle out of his grasp if he wanted to. It’s intense, overwhelming, perfect…

Three crisp knocks on the door send a bucket of ice water down Steve’s back. Before he even has time to react, Bucky is on his feet and pushing him through the curtain, out into the box proper. It’s all Steve can do not to get caught up in the fabric and stumble all over himself. “What about you?” He mouths at Bucky, but his friend just gestures furiously at him to close the curtain and shut up, while melting into the shadows besides the door. 

He’s going to sacrifice himself, the fucking jerk. If someone’s going be discovered, it’s going to be Bucky, and he’ll take everything on him to give Steve a chance to sneak out. 

The handle turns and Steve tugs the curtain shut, pressing himself into the farthest corner of the box where wooden separations shield him from the eyes of his neighbors. The front of the box, however, is wide open to the auditorium. The only thing that saves him is the fact that it’s still intermission and most of the other seats are empty. 

Steve stands completely upright and still. Hopefully any eyes straying his way will only glance at his uniform, assume he’s there on business and pass on. 

Inside the door opens. Steve’s heart thumps so heavily, he’s sure it must be audible to everyone within a 100-yard radius. He prays to a God he hopes wasn’t watching just a few seconds earlier that he won’t be caught like this, not with kiss-swollen lips and his best friend just a few steps away. 

“Mr. Durst? Sir?” A hesitant voice calls out into the darkness. 

For one second, Steve is actually on the verge of answering. Just taking on the air of unquestionable authority and send the intruder away, like the rightful occupant of the box might. He bites his lips, though, and forces himself to be silent. He’s a shit actor and he has no idea what someone like Mr. Durst (who’s also a regular and probably known to the staff) might say.

He’s not like Bucky. Bucky can talk himself out of (and into) everything.

After what seems like an eternity, the door closes again. Steve doesn’t dare move. It might be a ruse, to get them to betray themselves. He almost jumps out of his skin when a hand reaches through the curtain, grasps his wrist and draws him back inside. 

It’s only Bucky. Bucky, staring at him wide eyed and pale. 

“Did he…” What a stupid question. Of course they hadn’t been noticed, otherwise they wouldn’t be standing here. 

Bucky shakes his head. “No, but…” He leans himself against the wall and takes a deep, shaky breath. “Dammit, Stevie. That was close.”

Steve nods, terror giving way, slowly, sweetly, leaving elation in it’s wake. Elation, and something else. “It was.”

“You wanna get outta here?”

“No.” An idea is taking rapidly taking on concrete form in Steve’s mind. A dangerous, stupid, irresistible idea. 

“Right.” Bucky stays right where he is, any amorous thoughts apparently spooked out of his head. 

“We’re gonna finish this.”

“Okay.” Bucky nods and turns towards the curtain, tugging it back open just enough to see through. 

Right. The opera. Well, they’d get to that, eventually.

Steve takes two steps to the other side of the ante-room and grabs the ornate chair standing there. He wedges the backrest under the door handle so it’s impossible to open from the outside without heavy machinery. Granted, if anyone found the door barricaded, their game would be up anyway, but at least they could get dressed and avoid the indecency charges before anyone would manage to get in. 

When he catches Bucky’s eyes, his friends eyebrows are close to his hairline.

Steve meets his gaze head-on, walks over to him and hooks both thumbs in the waistband of Bucky’s trousers. He feels calm now, determined, cool in a way he can never actually be. “You done with me already?”

“Jesus, Steve.” Bucky sighs and presses his thumb to Steve’s lower lip. “What a stupid fucking question.”

Steve lets his eyes travel up and down Bucky’s body. “What are you waiting for then?”

Bucky slides one hand into Steve’s hair, just a tad rough. “You get off on getting caught?”

Steve shakes his head, reveling in the painful tug of Bucky’s fingers tangled in his hair. 

“Oh fuck, yes you do. Christ Steve.” Bucky’s swearing a whole lot now, even more than usual. Steve’s getting to him and his courage soars. “So what do you want? Want me to suck you off?”

Steve tilts his head. He won’t say no (will never say no to that) but he wants to see how far he can get Bucky to go. 

Bucky’s eyes wander over to the small sofa. “On there?”

Steve lowers his eyes. Outside, the bell rings, indicating the end of intermission. 

“Yeah. You’d like that, wouldn’t you.”

 _So easy_ , it echoes through Steve’s mind and by God he is.

Steve draws Bucky in for a brief kiss, using tongue and teeth to make it filthy before he draws away. He walks over the sofa, forcing himself to go slow. He’s aware of Bucky’s eyes raking over his body, of the auditorium filling up with people again, of a door being opened and shut to their left. All of this just makes him want it more, stirs that side of him that’ll one day lead him straight to the doors of hell. 

He reaches for the fastenings of his pants and shoves them down along with his underwear. Heart thumping in his throat, he kneels in front of the sofa, lays his chest down on it and grips the edge of the seat with both hands. It’s exposed, shameful, but somehow the indignity of the position only makes him feel bolder, braver. 

He turns his head to look up at Bucky. His friend is frozen where he left him. 

“Need a written fucking invitation, Barnes?” 

Bucky recovers quickly. He smirks at Steve and takes his sweet time walking over. Steve savors every second. Bucky puts one hand on the back of Steve’s neck. 

Steve bites his lip and closes his eyes. “Say it.”

“So easy.” Steve relishes the fresh wave of shame and arousal washing through him. 

Bucky draws back, just a little, just enough to make sure. “You sure”, he asks quietly. “Here?”

Steve knows Bucky has to ask. If they’re caught, Bucky might get off with a slap on the wrist and a slightly more infamous reputation. Steve will be wrecked. It has to be his call. 

Steve considers backing out. Using their hands, maybe their mouths, and a stream of mumbled dirty encouragements. It’d be quick and exciting and a lot less risky. He wouldn’t risk forcing Bucky to see him burn. 

“Do it”, he whispers and white hot heat engulfs him. 

In the concert hall, the music starts up again. Steve can barely hear it over the buzzing in his ears, but he feels it in his blood, rhythmic and dark. 

Bucky’s hands drifts down Steve’s spine with a touch so light it makes his hair stand on end. He lays one hand on Steve’s ass and drums his fingers against it as if pondering a math problem. 

“What are you waiting… Oh!” 

The pinch is hard enough to bruise. When Bucky speaks, his lips brush against the shell of Steve’s ear. “Not another word from you.” A finger rubs over Steve’s hole, dry and firm, like a massage. Steve’s breath turns ragged. 

Then the hands are gone and Bucky rustles with his clothing. A flash of fear shoots through Steve. This is going to be hard and fast and he hasn’t brought anything. It’s not going to be easy on him. 

Steve squares his jaw. He set this up. He’s not going to chicken out.

But when Bucky’s hand returns, it’s slick with something thicker and heavier than spit. If that jerk brought jelly to the fucking opera Steve’s gonna…

Well, for the moment, Steve’s not going to do much else than bite his lips and muffle his groans in the pretty upholstery as Bucky stretches him with two fingers at once. 

“That’s good”, Bucky whispers. “So good. Come on. I know you can take it.”

“Can take more’n that”, Steve mumbles only to bite down on his forearm when Bucky crooks his fingers and presses down. 

“I hope so. You’re just lucky I have to make sure you can walk outta here after.”

Steve doesn’t care. He just wants to be held down and taken apart until his brain goes empty and his legs stop functioning. 

Then Bucky moves and soon there’s one hand on the back of his neck and another on his hip. Steve’s hairline is dotted with sweat and he silently pleads with Bucky to get on with it, _please, now_. He holds himself so very still although all he wants is to push back and draw Bucky in, but it’ll be even better when Bucky holds him tight and takes him at his own pace, but he’ll only do that if Steve is good and still and patient and so Steve is doing his damnedest to…

Steve’s knees are shoved apart and he moans deep in his throat. His head his pushed a bit deeper into the couch in warning. 

Then finally there’s blunt, firm pressure against him and Bucky his sliding in, just that perfect little bit too fast. Steve gasps into the cushions just as Bucky whispers “Oh Jesus Christ, Steve, you’re so…” and starts a series of small, sharp thrusts deep within him. It’s fast and relentless, even though the movements are tiny, and it’s all Steve can do to hold on to the seat and take it.

Bucky’s panting now. He takes his hand off Steve’s neck, wraps it around his shoulder and pulls him back onto him, hard, and _oh God_. He forces Steve’s chest and head off the couch and on his next sharp thrust there’s nothing to muffle Steve’s cry. He’s mortified at the sound and brings his wrist to his mouth to bite down on it, but Bucky pulls his arm away roughly and _oh Lord_ he clamps his hands down hard over Steve’s mouth as he fucks into him so hard it makes a smacking sound against his ass. 

Too loud, they’re way too loud, because Bucky’s moaning low in his chest and murmuring filthy encouragements, and the hand on Steve’s mouth only makes him want to keen and sob against it, driving him wild and reckless. 

Bucky’s hand reaches around to his dick, a bit uncoordinated and rough, but it’s all Steve needs. The pressure that’s been building inside him all evening is just waiting to burst out and he’s ready to go within seconds. He moans against Bucky’s hand and whether in an attempt to shut him up or get him off, Bucky moves his hand on his mouth and then there are two long fingers shoved roughly inside, thick and deep and making him gag a little, and it sends him over the edge. 

Bucky is praying and cursing behind him, gripping his hip with his free and hand shoving into him so hard Steve’s overstimulated nerves can hardly bear it. Finally, he pulses deep inside him and comes to rest with his forehead against Steve’s shoulders. 

Miraculously, there is no crowd gathered around them when Steve opens his eyes. They must have made a fantastic racket towards the end, but lucky bastards that they are, the music was playing up loud and boisterous enough to drown them out. 

“Fuck.” Bucky gets up and stares at him, wide eyed and with his swollen dick hanging out the front of his uniform pants. “You’re a fucking loon, Rogers.”

Steve shrugs. “Anything to get you to let me watch Act 4 in peace.” He takes dabs at wet spots on the couch with his handkerchief for a moment, before shrugging and giving it up as a lost cause. Oh well. The Dursts could afford a good cleaning service. Or a new couch. 

They watch the rest of the opera through the gap in the curtain, Steve wrapped in Bucky’s arms, and Bucky just for once still and quiet.

**Author's Note:**

> Risë Stevens was a mezzo-soprano singing for the Met since the late 1930's. She only debuted as Carmen in 1946, but I've decided to let her take on that role five years earlier.


End file.
